


Merry Christmas, Clarke!

by missblushingwitch (torixoxo), torixoxo



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: Canon Universe, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:13:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21782740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torixoxo/pseuds/missblushingwitch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/torixoxo/pseuds/torixoxo
Summary: Ryan Clarke has never had a real Christmas, but a strange snow globe may change things when a bit of Christmas magic finds its way to New Orleans...(Hope and Ryan)
Relationships: Ryan Clarke & Hope Mikaelson, Ryan Clarke/Hope Mikaelson
Comments: 20
Kudos: 100





	Merry Christmas, Clarke!

“Merry Christmas, Clarke”

  
  


It had been over a year since Hope Mikaelson graduated from The Salvatore School For the Young & Gifted. Graduation had been held on a beautiful spring day, bright and warm. Rebekah and Freya had helped her pick out what to wear, an A-line dress in powder blue—something “simple and classy,” they had advised.

It was bittersweet, _as all endings are._

Her family had come to witness the event. Her Aunts and Marcel made it a point to be there, beaming from the front row. She had shaken hands with Dr. Saltzman on stage, before giving him a warm hug after the ceremony. Later, she laughed with Lizzie and Josie about how uncomfortable Landon and Rafael looked in their suits, tugging irritably at their ties in the hot Virginia sun. 

But when the day ended, she knew she’d be going home to New Orleans—at least for a little while. There was nothing keeping her in Mystic Falls. Not even Landon, which would have been inconceivable only a year earlier. They had broken up months ago—but it had been amicable. They had both realized that there was something missing; there was a fondness there, but it was a comfortable kind of love, not exactly the passionate romance she had always desired.

She laughed to herself, recalling the way she had once described their love as “epic.” She supposed that at the time it was— _at least under the circumstances._ But Malivore was gone now. There were no more monsters coming to Mystic Falls and everything had been quiet.

She stepped outside into the chilly December air. She was out to take a walk around the French Quarter, a habit she had developed over the past few months. Being back in New Orleans was comforting, but she still felt a longing for something more—something that she couldn’t place. 

She approached a flower stand on the street corner, admiring the beautiful poinsettias and holly sprigs for sale. Freya had asked her to pick up some holly and mistletoe berries for a spell they had been practicing. 

“Let’s work on something seasonal!” she had said cheerfully.

It seemed Freya was always cheerful lately—she and Keelin had been doing so well, and it was clear that their son was the absolute light of her life.

It warmed Hope’s heart to spend time with them, but even that was bittersweet. She missed her parents, she couldn’t help it— _and the holidays only made the feeling worse._

“Looking for anything special?” the vendor asked, smiling at her from behind the arrangement she was putting together.

“I’d like a few sprigs of holly, please,” she said. “And do you have any mistletoe?”

“No mistletoe, I’m afraid,” the old woman said. “So close to Christmas, all of the couples have been snapping it up for their holiday parties.”

Hope’s heart sunk; once again it seemed like everyone had someone but her. 

“Sorry, dear,” the woman said sympathetically. “You know what? Take the holly, Merry Christmas.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Hope said quickly, reaching for her wallet.

_“Please,”_ the woman said insistently, “I want to.” 

Hope smiled, “Thank you,” she said, taking the small bag of holly sprigs. “Merry Christmas.”

The woman just smiled as she went back to working on her flower arrangement. 

Hope didn’t feel like going home, not yet. She kept walking down the street, admiring the glowing holiday lights that seemed to adorn every home and shop.

She paused in front of the window to a little coffee shop. It was the kind of place that college students often frequented with their friends or to work on homework.

She went to the door, figuring she could use something warm to drink. As she did, she noticed a homemade poster taped to the door. 

_“See the holiday short film: The Return of Krampus,_ _Produced by Tulane University’s Film Department!”_ it read.

Underneath, was an image of the Krampus, leering at her.

She shivered, instantly reliving when she had encountered the real Krampus. It had been such a crazy time, having Malivore’s monsters frequent the school on a weekly basis. 

_“I don’t hate you, Hope,”_ the words came to her unbidden. Ryan Clarke had disappeared that strange "Christmas" night in October. 

A familiar feeling of guilt coiled around her chest—she knew there was nothing she could have done. However, a strange part of her wished she had been able to do something for him. 

The way he had sympathized with her about spending the holidays alone. There was something there— _kinship perhaps._ It was the oddest feeling, but she felt like in that moment, Clarke may have been one of the only people who actually understood her.

Hope walked inside, ordering a small cocoa and sitting down at a table by the window. She didn’t know why she ordered cocoa, coffee would have been her typical choice. But something about cocoa just seemed… _right_ tonight.

It wasn’t long before the waitress came to bring her drink over. Hope expressed her thanks and picked up the mug.

The chocolate taste was rich and comforting; she was so lost in the taste that the sound of something falling to the floor behind her nearly caused her to jump out of her skin.

She turned to see a pretty little snow globe rolling across the floor. She looked to see where it had come from, but there was no one else around but her. 

She picked it up carefully, marveling at how such a delicate item hadn’t cracked after hitting the hardwood floor. 

She peered inside to see a tiny green cottage, complete with Santa’s sleigh and reindeer perched on its rooftop. The base was a sparkling silver, and from the weight of it, she figured the metal was likely genuine.

Whoever had dropped this would surely miss it. It was a beautiful piece, she could imagine it being passed down through the generations—there was nothing cheap or tacky about it.

Hope sighed, bringing it up to the counter. 

  
“Excuse me?” she called to the employee cleaning the coffee machine. “I think someone may have dropped this…” 

“Hmm,” the woman mused, taking the snow globe from her hand. “This is really pretty,” she said. 

“Yeah, it is,” Hope agreed. For some reason, she was already missing the weight of it in her hand. 

“I’ll put it in the lost and found,” the woman said, pulling a cardboard box from underneath the counter. 

“Oh, wait!” the woman said excitedly. “There’s an inscription on the bottom…it says, _‘To: Hope Mikaelson.’_ ”

“What?” Hope asked dumbfounded. “That’s— _that’s me,_ ” she said, flipping open her wallet to show her ID. “See?”

“No way!” the woman said, glancing down at the ID. “Maybe your secret Santa dropped it here! That is so crazy!”

The woman held it out to her, but Hope just stood there, still puzzled by the strange turn of events. 

“Go on, take it,” the woman said, “It’s yours after all!” 

“Yeah,” Hope mumbled, taking the snow globe back—she swore she could feel a soft warmth emanating from it.

“I’ve got to go—” she said, tucking the globe inside her bag and turning to leave.

“Wait—your cocoa!” the woman shouted, but Hope was already halfway out the door. 

She ran down the street, passing couples out for an evening stoll and jazz musicians playing bluesy renditions of Christmas carols. 

She followed the streets of the French Quarter to the edge of the river, pausing only when she reached the water’s edge. 

The cold air had caused her lungs to burn, but she felt exhilarated nonetheless. Something was going to happen— _there was magic in the air._

She stood there for a moment, admiring how the moonlight turned the normally muddy waters of the Mississippi into something beautiful. 

She reached down, pulling the snow globe out of her bag. It was even prettier out under the starlight. The silver base twinkled under the street lamps, evoking a sense of Christmas magic. 

She took a deep breath and did what she had been longing to do since she first spotted it on the coffeehouse floor—she grasped the base tightly and gently shook the globe.

The snow inside began to swirl around gracefully, dusting the tiny cottage in glittery white.

For some reason, she felt the urge to make a wish, so she closed her eyes and focused on the message— 

_"I wish for a Merry Christmas for those who need it the most…"_ she thought.

She opened her eyes, feeling somewhat foolish for wishing on a snow globe. 

_Was that even a thing?_

Suddenly, she heard someone walking up behind her; she turned to see who may have witnessed her embarrassing moment and gasped-

“Miss me?” asked Agent Clarke, standing behind her with a crooked grin on his face. 

“Clarke?” she asked in disbelief.

_That was impossible!_

“In the flesh,” he said, still smiling. 

“How did you survive?” she asked. “More importantly, why are you _here?”_

“I… don’t really know,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m not even sure where _here_ is…” he admitted. 

“New Orleans,” she said quietly. “My home.”

His eyes widened a bit at that before letting out a laugh. “That’s actually really amusing,” he said cryptically.

“Care to share?” she asked, suddenly remembering how annoying he could be. 

“After our phone call, I went back to Malivore's portal,” he explained. “When I was looking down into it, I saw a reflection in the sky—it looked like, well, _Santa’s sleigh._ ”

Hope just listened, watching his expressive eyes as he told his story. 

“I don’t know what happened after that…but I know I made a wish,” he said softly. 

“For another visit from Krampus?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow. 

He rolled his eyes at that. 

“No,” he said. “I made a wish to see you again,” he admitted.

Hope’s heart sputtered in her chest, whatever he was going to say, she didn’t expect it to be that. 

“You were kind to me, Hope,” he said. “Even after everything I did to you— _and tried to do to you…”_

She smiled a little. It was nice seeing him being honest with her. It was almost… _endearing._

“I wished to have another Christmas...a _real_ Christmas,” he explained, eyes shining.

“I never expected it to actually come true,” he said, looking around at the shining Christmas lights decorating every fence and lamp post along the river.

“You said you’d never had a real Christmas before,” Hope recalled.

“It’s true,” he said. “The closest I got was spending time with you that night at the school.” 

“That hardly counts,” Hope said. 

“I couldn’t agree more,” Clarke answered, flashing another smile. 

“So you really have no idea how you got here?” she asked, biting a nail as she considered exactly what was happening. 

“No clue,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “I think I was in the darkness again…” he admitted. She noted how he shivered slightly at that. 

“But then…it was the strangest thing,” he said, looking down at his feet. “I felt a pull from something. It was a feeling that I needed to be somewhere _very_ important. It’s funny, because before that moment, I’m not even sure I was aware of anything…”

“What did it feel like?” she asked softly.

“It felt like… _magic,”_ he admitted. “I saw—Oh, you’ll think I’m crazy…”

“What?” she asked, curiosity burning inside her. 

“I saw _snow,”_ he said, barely above a whisper. 

Hope considered him, drawing closer. “Did it look like this?” she asked, holding out the snow globe.

His eyes widened. “Where did you get that?” he asked, clearly bewildered.

“I found it…in a coffee shop,” she said. “Do you recognize it?”

“That snow globe…I used to see it in a shop window every year. There was something about it that fascinated me. It was so strange because I never celebrated the holidays. I never had anyone to celebrate with…” he trailed off.

“But now you have it. How is that possible?” he asked, placing his hands over hers, holding the globe gently between them. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But there’s something else—” She turned the snow globe over, revealing the inscription on the bottom. 

“ _To Hope Mikaelson…_ ” he read. “I—” he swallowed nervously, running a hand through his dark, curly hair.

“What?” Hope asked, looking up to him. For whatever reason, everything about this moment felt terribly important. 

“I used to imagine that when I found someone to spend my Christmas with, I would buy them that snow globe,” he admitted, watching her from beneath his dark lashes. 

Hope trembled as she met his gaze. There was something so intense about his expression— _so passionate._

“I made a wish too,” she admitted. “I wished on this snow globe.”

“What did you wish for?” he asked, voice low. 

“I wished for a Merry Christmas for those who needed it the most…” she said, reaching out her hand to cover his once more. 

“Thank you, Hope,” he said, resting his forehead on the top of her head. “Even if this doesn’t last…I’m so happy to have this moment.” 

Hope could scarcely breathe.

“Should we shake it together?” she asked. “Make a wish?” she suggested.

He lifted his head and smiled. “I would like that,” he said.

She grinned back, “Let’s do it,” she said. 

She closed her eyes and they shook the globe together, hands entwined around its base. 

Suddenly, she felt something wet on her nose. She opened her eyes and looked up. The sky was suddenly sparkling and shining with a flurry of snow. The tiny snowflakes glistened under the streetlamp light, looking like diamonds falling from the sky. 

“Clarke,” she breathed. “Look.”

He opened his eyes and looked up—he laughed. “It’s snowing!” he shouted, grinning widely up at the sky. 

“It’s snowing!” she agreed. “It hardly ever snows in New Orleans...” she said.

“It must be magic,” he said happily, looking more joyful than she had ever seen him before. 

Just then, she heard a small bell ring from above. The street light they had been huddled under suddenly sprouted a sprig of mistletoe, directly above their heads. 

Clarke noticed too, looking down at her softly. 

“Thank you, Hope,” he said again, bending down to place a soft kiss on her forehead. 

The action sent waves of tingles through her body, warming her in a way that a cup of cocoa never could. 

He smiled down at her before looking up to the sky once more. “Look!” he called. 

She followed his gaze to spot a streak of light shooting across the sky, a jolly “Ho, ho, ho!” reverberated in her ears. 

Clarke heard it too and laughed.

“It was Santa,” he said in wonder.

“Merry Christmas, Hope,” he said, turning back to her with affection in his eyes.

“Merry Christmas, Clarke,” she said, smiling widely. 

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas, dear readers.
> 
> I was so moved by the Christmas episode that I knew I needed to write a piece of Christmas fluff. This is just a little one shot story, but I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Wishing you all the warmest, happiest, most wonderful holiday season!
> 
> Let me know what you think,
> 
> Love you guys!


End file.
